


It's all alright

by sherlocked221



Category: The Beatles
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2018-12-31 08:17:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12128340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocked221/pseuds/sherlocked221
Summary: John, Paul, George and Ringo are staying in a hotel all in one room. Eppy is staying in a room down the hall.The boys talk about Eppy and end up doing some experimentation.





	1. Kiss

 

“Alright boys, do I need to turn out the lights, or will you go to sleep at a reasonable time tonight?” Eppy asked in a feigned patronising tone as he stood in the doorway of his band’s hotel room. He looked over the four bodies topping and tailing in two, creaking, single bed with only their smug little facing popping out of the thick duvets. He didn’t know why they all looked so happy. By his standards, did they not have the bum deal. They were four teenage boys, crammed in one of the smallest rooms in the hotel. With the amount of money they were making at that time, two rooms were all they could afford and things had to remain professional. What would not look professional was if Eppy, the boy’s manager, was forced to share a room with one or two of those he was meant to be looking after. As long as they agreed, he’d have a place to his self. They didn’t mind, and so that’s where they stayed.

The only thing was, he was starting to regret taking a room so far away from them. With the smiles on their faces, evil, little grins lighting up their lips, he couldn’t fathom what naughty plots they were conspiring against him.

“Oh no, Mother,” Squeaked John in a very boyish voice, “We’ll be good, little things tonight. Promise! Yeh won’t hear not a peep from us.”

This was followed by a chorus of ‘Yeh’ and ‘Promise!’ from the others in the bed around him.

Eppy rolled his eyes at them. This was probably a bad idea. He should’ve splashed out on a conjoined room, or something. All the regrets flooded into his mind as he looked across them all suspiciously, “Alright,” He sighed, “Well, wipe those grins off your faces and go to sleep. Come on.”

He then slithered awkwardly out the door, shut it behind him and muttered a half-hearted ‘goodnight’ that he doubted anyone heard. As he walked away, he cursed the moment he’d made the booking here, the moment he thought it would be a good idea.

But on the other side, there was silence. Nothing moved, no one breathed. The stillness gave a misleading impression that the four boys in the room might actually be trying to go to sleep. Not a crease in the duvets was made, not a strand of mop-top out of place. They didn’t meet each other’s gazes and they ignored the painful sensation of having to paralyse their hyper bodies. It was of paramount importance that they made not a sound, as they wanted to be sure, before they sat back up again, that Eppy was well out of earshot. They listened silently, as well as those who were facing it, watched the gap below the door where light shone in. They couldn’t see anything blocking it, but Eppy had many tricks now to ensure the boys went to sleep. He was like a mother of four, hyperactive children. He was wise to their deception.

After a short while like this, one by one, the four boys dared to prop themselves up on their elbows, taking one last look at the door. The coast was clear- though it had been for some time.

John was first up. He pulled himself up to open the window. He then reached into his bag which sat under his bed and he brought out a pack of cigarettes. With prying hands, Paul also took one for himself, offering to light John’s up in return. Though it wasn’t much of an exchange, John couldn’t say no. He leant forward and covered the flame from Paul’s lighter with one hand cupping around it. Paul then did the same to himself.

The other two in the room slowly sat up. They didn’t speak to one another, they communicated though glances and gestures. Ringo brought out a pack of cards from his jacket laying strewn behind the bed and George agreed to play with a nod of his head sideways.

The room remained pretty much silent, with only rustles breaking the lack of sound. It was only once John couldn’t stand it anymore that he opened his mouth, letting smoke spill from it and sound to fill up the space.

“Do you ever think about him?” His voice was still pretty hushed in caution. The other boys looked over.

“Who?” Asked Ringo, as he teared his eyes away from the hand of cards fanned out on his fingers. He noticed John was looking towards the door as though someone was standing there, “Eppy?” He guessed, “What about him?”

George, who’d barely glimpsed John’s way, was retrieving a card from the remaining deck when he, half-interested, replied, “What? About him being queer?”

John nodded carefully. Only Ringo and Paul saw him.

“Think about it?” Paul questioned. George looked again at John quickly, as though he were going to see the older boy’s thoughts written in the air and, as bad as John was at hiding his feelings, there was no indication of how he felt about this particular subject. He just looked confused.

“Yeah… yeh know. Why someone would be queer.” John explained to Paul.

Ringo suddenly piped up after taking his turn in the game he played with George, “I don’t think it’s a choice.”

The other boys, all of them, nodded, considering the thought. It made sense. Why would anyone actively go against the law for something like that? Yeah, it made sense to them.

A quietness, as they all ran through their own thoughts on the matter, came over the boys. John sat up on his knees to reach the window, where he let out a long exhale of billowing smoke mixing with the cold air outside. George, in the middle of his game, reached over for Paul’s cigarette and took a long drag of it, letting it hang in the corner of his mouth as he took another go. He noticed that Ringo was smiling, staring down at his cards. That couldn’t be a good sign. As he handed back the cigarette to Paul, he decided to up his game.

Too bad it was too late. A second later and Ringo had slammed his winning hand on the mattress in front of him. George proclaimed a loud “Fuck!” drawing everyone’s attention to him. He gave them all, as they had mocking grins on their faces, a dirty look. Ringo, who couldn’t be prouder of himself, started to gather all the cards back up ready to be dealt again.

“Well, have you ever thought of being with a guy?” John then asked. He got less of a stunned reaction than he was expecting. As the other two were all too busy either celebrating their win or mourning their loss, Paul was the only one to give John a sideways glance.

“Why?” Ringo said with a smile on his face. He could hear George muttering under his breath ‘one fucking card.’ He managed to wipe the smug look off his face, though, else John might’ve thought he was mocking him, “Have you?”

“Well,” John started quietly, even more so than before, “Guys can be attractive, y’know.” However, the seriousness of the conversation got too much for him. Instead of keeping his voice low, he perked up and finished with a flash of his weak bicep, “I mean, look at me!” He kissed his arm as though he were a body builder. Paul laughed at him and threw a pillow, right at his face. It hit him squarely in the nose. Furiously, John pushed the duvet off himself and readied himself to lunge at Paul.

Thank God, the younger man could see it coming and directed his attacker back to the conversation with desperate agility, “I’ve always wondered if kissing a guy is different to a girl.” Ringo and George both gave him a glance, but not in confusion or disgust. They were merely surprised someone had finally said what they were both wondering. Unfortunately, Paul misconstrued it to be judging and defensively added, “Because there has to be something different, right?”

“I would’ve thought so.” Ringo concurred, pretending to take a deep interest in the game rather than the conversation. The whole conversation seemed to have gone too far for it to be comfortable, because each boy was now thinking, imagining what it might actually be like to be with a man. Would it really be so different? Could it really be better? Awkwardly, each boy left it at that and got back to doing their own thing, still with ideas popping into their mind, and as much as they wanted them voiced, they couldn’t bring themselves to do so.

George and Ringo got back to their game, with the younger boy bringing out a packet of bread rolls he’d managed to sneak in under everyone else’s radar. He started chomping on one in one hand while awkwardly threw down and picked up cards with the other. He slapped both John and Paul’s wrists when they tried to take some, but he allowed Ringo, making John call him out as ‘drummer favouritism.’ This was then debunked when Paul pointed out that Ringo was the only drummer.

After that, they all went back to silence. Well, almost silence.

“Fucking fuck!” George yelled as he lost once again. He tossed his cards down, shuffled up the bed and dove under the covers. He insisted Paul give him another drag of his cigarette while Ringo smugly said, “Better luck next time.”

There wasn’t going to be a next time, George decided. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, finishing up the last of his bread roll then, in seeing Ringo’s ripped in half on the mattress, he stole it.

Ringo reached out for it, but George was too quick, “Better luck next time.” He bitterly muttered, but they both knew it was all in good fun. They smirked at each other as George bit down on the roll.

“Would you ever kiss a man?” Ringo then came out with. It had been bothering him since they’d started all this, because, in all honesty, he couldn’t make his mind up if he would or not.  He got as far as believing that he would, depending on the guy. And he reasoned that it was true for anyone. You like who you like. He wouldn’t go around kissing every girl in the world.

“Can I be honest?” John breathed, much lower than before. He thought, if they’d gone this far without any of them judging, there really was no stopping them. When he got a positive response from the group, he opened his mouth again.

But someone else’s voice came out, “I would.”

Everyone’s eyes shot to Paul, whose words had left a design of smoke in the air.

“Just to see what it’s like.” He admitted, then shrugged, “I’m curious.”

Everyone paused. Was it ok to speak? They couldn’t quite believe they were talking about this. Ringo and George hadn’t dealt another hand, because they were too interested in each other’s views, as they had been from the start. It was only now any of them had the guts to speak. John had put out his cigarette, because he was finally getting what he wanted. He had wanted to bring this up forever. He didn’t know how any of his friends thought on the matter, not really. Were they all only ok with Bri, or were they ok with all queers? He had to supress his excitement and nervousness.

“Me too.” He whispered, “I’m not queer or anything, but I get that guys can be attractive.” Paul and he exchanged a knowing look, like they were on the same page.

Ringo saw it too. He’d seen this knowing look all too much. The thing is, it had been there since he’d joined the band, an understanding between the two boys that went deeper. He knew what was going on there, and now he saw a chance to make it… real?

“Then why don’t you two kiss?” He suggested. Any other day, he’d be laughed off and ridiculed for ever having spoken the idea, but they all felt too vulnerable to make fun of anyone. It even seemed like a good idea.

Paul looked at John. He knew that the only flight-risk here was John. When John was uncomfortable he’d do one of two things. He’d get defensive, or play things off as a joke. All Paul needed to do was keep the older man’s attention on him. He’d done it before, and it had worked.

But John wasn’t meeting Paul’s gaze. He was staring squarely at Ringo. Not angry, not defensive. He just seemed worried.

“We could…” Paul encouraged, but got no response from John. He tried again, “They don’t have to watch…”

“Hey!” Ringo yelled. After all, he was the one who suggested it, he was involved in this whole conversation. Being blind to it didn’t seem all that fair.

But Paul just put a hand out and told the oldest Beatle with his eyes that it would all be fine. Ringo retreated back into himself as he turned his attentions to John.

“Go on, John,” George whined, “We’re not going to judge.”

John’s eyes shot to the youngest band member, “I don’t care if yeh judge.” He spat. George shrugged.

“John,” Paul said quietly, “No one’s making yeh do anything.”

John squinted at him. Boy did he look cute without his glasses, his eyes thinning as he tried to focus his vision on the boy in front of him. However, he didn’t really need to. He knew what Paul looked like. His face, his body, it was all ingrained in his mind. He sighed loudly as the younger boy began to speak again and he rolled his eyes.

Without warning, he sat up, leant over and pressed a big kiss on Paul’s perfect lips. The Younger boy fell back onto his elbows, simultaneously spreading his legs to make it comfortable and accessible for John. The fair-haired Beatle ended up lying through Paul’s legs as their lips touched.

First it was just the lips, then it was a little tongue, then John brought one hand up to knot in Paul’s hair. This was certainly not what he was expecting. He never thought it would be this good.

And Paul wasn’t like a girl. He didn’t kiss like a girl- John had often accused his friend of such. There was something different about kissing a guy, something that John liked even better than a girl. When he pulled away, he gazed at Paulie.

For a long time, he didn’t know what he felt for Paul. He thought it was friendship, a brotherly love. They were closer than anyone else and he just saw that as… well, they weren’t like anyone else anyway, so they couldn’t have a relationship like all the other guys. No, they had to be closer, it was a little more intense.

Now, however, he couldn’t confuse the feeling. He loved Paul. Fuck! He actually loved a boy.

“That was good…” Paul whispered, a smile on his face that he could not rid himself of. He’d only just realised how long he’d wanted to kiss John. It had been years they’d been friends, years he’d wanted something from John, something because he always knew they were closer than friends. He didn’t really ever think it would be this… but it was.

“Yeh kidding?” George laughed from the side-lines. The two boys in front of him turned their attentions to their audience, “Yeh made it look pretty hot-like.”

Ringo was nodding too. He couldn’t help himself. He’d sort of wanted to kiss someone here too. Certainly, now that he’d seen John and Paul do it. He really did. Since this conversation was heading this way anyway, he really wanted to volunteer himself, if it weren’t such a perfect time to get the two love birds of the group together.

“Well,” John piped up, pushing himself off Paul, “Your turn.”

George looked stunned, “Excuse me?” His smile was wiped off his face.

“We performed,” Paul pointed out, sitting back up on his knees (hiding the semi-on in his pyjamas with a skilfully placed forearm.)

Ringo couldn’t believe his luck. Well, he couldn’t believe that he might get to kiss George, but he didn’t want to do it if George didn’t, and the younger boy was looking a little daunted by the idea. It would be no fun if only he was enjoying it.

He looked at George with his bright, blue eyes and smiled, “Don’t worry, Georgie. It’s only if yeh want to.”

George glanced down at the mattress, “I know, I know, yeh don’t need to patronise me.” Why was he suddenly so worried? A second ago, he’d watched his two friends kiss, practically humping on each other, yet now he wasn’t sure he wanted to do the same. He cast his gaze up at Ringo… handsome Ringo. Could he really see his friend in that way, the way he looked at girls? Wouldn’t it make things… awkward? It was different between John and Paul because they were always more than friends.

Maybe George and Ringo had always been like that too.

“I’ll only do it if you’re happy to as well. Like, only if yeh really want to, or else I don’t want to.”

Why did Ringo have to be so kind and understanding? George had always liked that about the drummer. He was only happy if everyone else around him was, as in, his closest friends. If the band was happy, Ringo was too. He was the bright sunshine that shone through the heavy, black cloud the other three could make.

Ok, George knew he liked Ringo, he’d convinced himself. And, to be honest, he really wanted to be kissed.

“No… I want to.” He muttered, shyly looking up through heavy eyelashes.

Ringo’s smile at that moment could melt ice. He sat facing George squarely, but that was the only move he made. From then on, he let George do only what he was comfortable with.

And though George kept thinking about the two pairs of eyes watching them, he managed to get up on his knees, place his hands on Ringo’s shoulders and lean in for a kiss.

Ringo had lips that many people underrated. They were big and shapely. They were smooth and tasted a bit like seeds off the bread roll he ate earlier, but George dug that. He got closer and closer, drawing his knees up towards Ringo’s crossed legs until they touched. Ringo then, believing that George was comfortable enough, brought his hands up to place them on the boy’s hips. It was much more of an innocent touch than what the other two had done, but both Ringo and George felt a wave of pleasure surging through them that heated the kiss. They dared try tongue. George even put his little vampire teeth to work, softly- and subtly- biting Ringo’s bottom lip to see what he’d do. It was an old trick he did with the girls and he had to, if this was a proper experiment, purely to see if men were so different from women, try everything he did with girls.

They pulled away after about the same time that had lapsed during John and Paul’s kiss and they immediately sat apart from each other, staring at the other boys.

“How was that?” Paul asked cautiously. A small smirk came onto both the boy’s well-kissed lips.

“It’s not too bad.” George laughed, looking over his shoulder shyly. Ringo smiled wider.

“We’re all a load of dirty queers, you know.” John laughed.

“I guess we are, Luv.” Paul replied, and the four boys fell about in giggles.

This was, in no way, the end of the night.


	2. Make-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-smut. Smut in the next chapter. This one seems a bit pointless, but... I had to write more....  
> And to tease you all.

The four boys grinned at each other as they crept back into bed, pulling the covers around them. They stayed sat up, because not one had any intention of sleeping just yet, so the two- John and Ringo- that were at the ends of the mattress, the foot with no board, made a back rest with the pillows behind them. The night had just taken an oddly open-minded and interesting route, leaving them all buzzing with energy.

Yet, they weren’t sure what to say to one another. They snuggled down beneath their duvets because, despite enjoying the conversation, they all were feeling overly awkward, and they sat in almost silence, gazing at anything away from each other.

They all wanted something; more kisses, more than just kisses, to talk, but not one of them could bring the ideas out of their minds. Their tongues were paralysed in a mixture of embarrassment and intrigue.

So, they waited. They waited for something to break the silence. Something they could talk about. Anything that would get them engaged again, because they were sure, some were sure they would be able to divert the conversation back to their previous one.

The distraction came in the form of a knock at the door. At once, the four boys threw themselves backwards, curling into sleeping positions. As though they all shared one mind, they assumed it was Eppy, coming to check up on them. Tactfully, they waited for a second knock- it might give the impression to whoever was outside that they had woken them, instead of them having been awake the whole time- then John slipped out of the sheets to bring the door open ajar. He rustled his hair a bit and closed one eye as though the light from outside was too much to bare for his poor, unadjusted pupils.

However, standing there was their manager, tapping his foot on the floor, obviously not buying the act. The other boys shut their eyes as tight as possible, staying unmoving in their beds.

“You realise that I can hear everything from out here.” Eppy warned. John tried to conceal his sudden worry.

Had he heard… everything?

“Hear what?” He muttered back in a croaky voice. Boy was John alright at lying. Too bad Eppy was too well accustomed to his antics. He’d been around for long enough now. He knew that, if he left and came back, he’d probably be able to catch the band not sleeping and be able to give them a right yelling at, right when they needed it.

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced, “I heard you all. You haven’t been asleep. You didn’t even try!”

From behind John’s heavy frame, Ringo and Paul sat up. George, of course, refused to give in until the last minute. He would present himself as the only one who was asleep. Eppy couldn’t say any different if he wasn’t awake to hear it.

Ringo piped up, peering over his shoulder, “But we did try…” He sounded like the youngest, speaking in a whiny, apologetic tone, “If you were here the whole time, you would’ve heard…”

Paul cut in suddenly, “You were here the whole time?”

John shot a look at the younger man, staring with warning eyes. He hoped it would convey his eager order to keep his mouth shut.

But Eppy was already suspicious of something, not only talking having gone on in the room. He hesitated for a moment as his expression became sterner. His eyes darted over the four boys again, “Why?” He inquired, knowingly, “What were you doing?”

John dropped his act as he looked back at his manager. In an instant, he became defensive, as he always would do. “Well, if you were spying on us, you’d know, now wouldn’t you?”

George thought the game was up by now. He sat up on his elbow, peering over at Eppy too, worried.

“I wasn’t spying...” Eppy muttered, still with a tone of confidence, but that was lowering. He wasn’t all that good at bluffing, and there would probably get to a point where it would become apparent that he knew nothing. He hardened his expression once more as John butt in.

“Then what were you doing? Standing outside our door, listening to our conversation? What? Did it turn you on or something?”

“John!” Paul yelled. Eppy opened his mouth to talk, but words failed him.

What were they talking about?

He was now more curious about that rather than bent on getting them to sleep. He shut his slack jaw, before regaining full control of his own mind.

There was something about John that, whenever he mentioned Eppy being queer, or someone being queer, Eppy felt as though he’d lost all control over the group. It the way John would assume that, because they’re all men, the group and their manager, that Eppy must be in love with one of them.

And that made him feel thoroughly uncomfortable.

He watched as John looked behind once more, once more at Paul. He saw the guilty and embarrassed look on the younger boy’s face, glaring back at John. These two, honestly, had a bond stronger than anyone else could understand. When he regarded Eppy again, he seemed as though he’d just been told off by his mother.

“Just… you heard everything…” John murmured angrily, “You probably think we’re a bloody bunch of queers.”

George and Paul cleared their throats loudly, but John didn’t seem to pay much attention. They were acting under the notion that if nothing’s said, nothing happened. If Eppy didn’t ask, they don’t tell…

“Now, why would I care if any of you were?” Eppy said quietly. He still was full of curiosity, but he thought it best to defuse the situation, rather than spark up another argument, because John would surely want to have a go at him, had he mentioned that he’d just pretended to know something to scare them.

John glared down at the floor, “We’re not, though.”

“I know you’re not.” Eppy breathed, motherly. He even smiled a little, “I know you well, John. I know you all. I wouldn’t care what you were talking about, as long as you weren’t being offensive.” This time, as he looked at the boys, all with guilty expressions on their faces, he wasn’t annoyed. He continued to smile and, when none of them spoke, he jokingly added, “I’m more upset because none of you were asleep, silly things!” He softly tapped John’s arm, encouraging back into the room further, “Come on, now. Get in bed and stop all this talking.”

George half smiled back at Eppy. The rest of his expression was akin to confusion. He was working something out in his mind as he slipped back into a sleeping position. The door behind Eppy closed and his three bandmates awkwardly stared into space, still seeming completely embarrassed. Had they really missed something so obvious?

“So he heard.” Ringo whispered, “He won’t tell anyone. If it got out…”

“Of course he won’t tell anyone.” John spat, “He can’t even say that he’s queer, he’s not going to fuck us up by letting on that we kissed each other.”

“If he’s ok with it…” Paul said rationally, “Then we just don’t talk about it. It never happened. Ok?”

And in his own carefree, little bubble, George giggled, rolling his wide open eyes.

“What yeh giggling at, Harrison?” John snapped accusingly. The scrawny, younger boy sat up and looked at his aggressive band member. So bloody defensive. The kid that started this whole conversation is now too afraid to admit to it. To admit that he liked it. And so dumb, let’s be honest. He couldn’t even see that…

“You know he doesn’t know anything?” George laughed.

All around, puzzled expressions regarded the youngest band member.

“Seriously? He said he though we said something. Like we were talking about being gay or whatever. He doesn’t know about the kiss.”

He watched as Paul’s eyes darted back and forth as though he were reading a transcript of their conversation in the air. Ringo stared blankly at George.

“Fuck… he wasn’t there at all.” Paul gasped, half chuckling, “You’re a fucking dickhead, John!” John had been rude to Eppy for no reason. He’d even mentioned the conversation for no reason. Now… now Eppy knew that they were talking about something. Not that it mattered much. Paul felt so bloody embarrassed. His cheeks blushed.

“Oh fuck off, Macca. You were the one that panicked and asked him if he was here the whole time.” John accused, but Paul was no longer in the mood to fight.

He laughed back. “Yeah… yeah I did.” John didn’t seem to want to relax again. He stared back at Paul, unimpressed, so Paul added,  “D’yeh wanna know why?”

“Why’s that?”

Paul looked around at his other two friends. Ringo was taking a long, deep breath, rolling his huge eyes at George in relief. George was still laughing at them all. They weren’t really listening. Paul was going to make them listen.

“Because I was just going to ask if I could have another.”

“Another what?” John spat, still not calming down.

“One of these.”

Paul crawled forward to the end of the bed, his knees either side of John’s thighs. He placed a hand on John’s handsome cheek and crushed his lips against the older man’s, prying them open until he submitted, giving up all the sudden anger and defensiveness.

Well, Ringo and George certainly noticed. As Paul crawled up the bed, George caught sight of it out of the corner of his eye. When he looked, he saw that his younger friend was going in for another, greedy kiss, and he quickly punched Ringo in the arm to guide his gaze that way.

Instantly, Ringo smiled.

“Christ.” He whispered, “Were we all thinking the same thing?”

George glanced at Ringo, “hu?” He muttered.

“Nothing…” Ringo replied. Ok, it was now or never. He may not have known if George, or even if John, had wanted more- which they all had- but he knew that he did really want to taste George again, from the moment he pulled away. He watched George laughing and smiling and… well there was a hint of intensity in his eyes as he watch his two friends. Perhaps that… maybe he was turned on by this. George was a little voyeur, all the Beatles knew, they just had no idea that it could extend to watching each other make out… with each other.

Well, if he really was turned on by this, there was no better time to lean in. Ringo practically lay under George and reached up on his elbows. He brushed George’s lips with his own before the younger boy had even worked out that he’d moved, and offered his kiss gently to allow George to choose.

He chose to take the offer.


	3. Something more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I'm not please with this chapter at all, but I'm glad I've written it.  
> I haven't checked it. I might come back to it, just for corrections and to perfect it.  
> But yeah...

With their lips locked and bodies so close that there was no space between the two boys at all, John decided his hand was well enough hidden as it slid down Paul’s body and pushed apart their crotches. It seemed Paul was only too happy to lift his hips upward, making space for the older boy’s hands between his legs. He managed not to groan from the pleasant feel of someone else- someone a lot more special than all those chicks from school or fans in crowds- touching him.

Despite all the worry and defensive natures, neither one of them wanted to stop. All that fear of Bri being just outside the door had worn off as quick as it had taken the boys to lock lips once gain. Neither Paul nor John had the time to think about the world outside that hotel room door in that moment. They could hardly care less if, just next to them, their friends happened to also be making out. In fact, it even made the whole situation better, since they weren’t the only ones. If they had an audience of two boys, gazing at them as they pressed against one another, subtly now grinding into each other as their tongues pried more confidently into their mouths, they’d feel a lot worse, a lot more judged. They probably would not be grasping onto one another as much. John certainly wouldn’t have his palm flat over Paul’s crotch and that would definitely be a shame.

No. It was much better having Ringo and George occupied, doing the same thing. They were all as guilty as each other, and all as inexperienced.

Well, inexperienced wasn’t quite the word. Ringo had to admit, George seemed all too good with his mouth. You could hardly call that thing inexperienced. Ringo was now sat up opposite George, knelt a bit to the side so his butt touched the mattress. His body was a little turned away from the guitarist, instead of straight on, which meant he was putting some weight on the scrawny boy, not that George seemed to mind at all. He pushed back with his kisses and hands on Ringo’s chest or shoulder.

The drummer allowed his eyes to open just for a moment, and glance over to the other couple. Yes, whatever Paul was working on John with, using that handsome mouth of his, that was not unskilled. John had closed his eyes and was crushing his lips back against Paul’s, passionately tasting the younger boy as though there were nothing in the world as good a flavour.

Perhaps all this ‘boy kissing’ wasn’t all too different from ‘girl kissing,’ in skill.

Had it not been George kissing him, Ringo thought he’d feel decidedly inadequate, as his friends were more considered as sex symbols compared to himself. However, either George’s distractingly good snog or the fact that it was his friend, who he knew to be kind and gentle when he wanted to be, locking lips with him, he wasn’t feeling all too bad.

One thing he was certain of, though, was that this was way better a kiss than he’d got from many girls. George was certainly an underrated dark horse, if only with a kiss, though Ringo didn’t believe that was all the youngest Beatle was good at. He wished he could know more, but he didn’t have the courage to ask for it. What would he be asking for anyway? All the acts that came to mind was surely a step too far.

A second after thinking that, a loud moan came from Paul as he tossed his head back, the fringe of his moptop flicking back, then falling back, almost perfectly, into place. Something more was certainly going on there. George didn’t mean to, but he shot a look over at the boys on the bed next to them.  Ringo did too. They both knew, as they did so, that it would deter the other couple, embarrass them perhaps, which they certainly did not want to do. Yet curiosity and habit got the best of them.

John paused, tearing away from his young partner. He stared squarely at George with accusing eyes, while his hand, the one that had coaxed a moan from Paul’s lips, slipped down onto the mattress beside his leg as though it had been there all along.

Apologetically, George went to hastily suggest they continue, when Paul’s mouth suddenly dropped open.

“Please, John,” He groaned, “Don’t stop, don’t even think about it.”

John’s head shot back to Paul, surprised. The younger Beatle did not seem at all fazed by the sudden attention. Though he would prefer for George and Ringo not to be watching, he couldn’t stand John’s touch being away from him.

When John didn’t return his hand to its previous place- out of embarrassment that he had gone that far- Paul knelt up and placed his fingers at the waistband of his pyjamas. He was well aware of the four prying eyes to his side, but he wasn’t going to stop. All he cared about was John, in that moment, and they’d already tossed much of their worries to the side. What happened in the room, stayed in the room. It was the unspoken agreement that made everything feel alright.

“Will you?” He requested, with almost an innocence in his voice, like a child asking for a hug. John found himself staring down at his friend’s crotch. Only a minute ago, he had his hand flat over it, rubbing his fingers around the length and stroking him. Now, faced with it, he wondered what the hell to do. Especially now that they had an audience.

Well, they didn’t for long. Ringo was too good a friend to just sit and watch as though it were a dirty movie. He knew that his friend felt uncomfortable and decided to take the pressure off him, to help both John and Paul, since the latter wanted the former to do something he’d only do if he felt totally comfortable.

Ringo turned back to George and brought his head back around for another kiss. This time, however, he acted on his thoughts. He moved a hand down George’s chest, turned it so that his fingers crawled first, and began to slip them into the boy’s pyjama bottoms. He felt George’s chest heave, a deep breath drawn quickly into his lungs, but it was not negative. George never stopped kissing, He hardly faltered. He even brought his own hands down to pull his waistband open for Ringo’s hand to easily slip in.

Now with the other two preoccupied once more, John cast his thoughts back to Paul. When he thought of being alone with Paulie, when he thought of it just being them two, his insecurities seemed to melt away, seeping through the sheets onto the floor. He edged himself closer to Paul’s body, bringing his hands up his thighs and curling his fingers around the top of his trousers. He gently pulled them down, revealing the underwear-less crotch underneath. He had to take a steadying breath so not to completely lose control.

“Fuckin’ hell, Macca. We must be insane.” He muttered as his right hand took hold of his bandmate. Straight away, Paul bucked into his fist.

“Pretend it’s a dream.” He suggested, breathlessly, barely able to look down at the sight below him. His friend, his best mate sat, cross-legged in front of him, one hand slowly pumping at his hard on. He couldn’t even process the fact that it was a little too dry at the moment. If this was a chick, he would ask if she’d go down on him, just to get it a bit wet, but he couldn’t find the words to ask John.

John that teddy boy Paul had met in school. John from the Quarrymen. John the witty moptop, a sensation of the decade. He could hardly believe that this was the same arrogant, rebellious boy he’d grown up with.

“Pretend it’s a dream?” John gasped, licking his lips as Paul arched his back, “I don’t want to miss a second of this. Fuckin’ beautiful…”

Mmm, John and Paul sounded like they were having fun, George thought. He smiled as he dragged his tongue up Ringo’s neck. But John was right, they must all be insane. What the hell would this look like to an outsider? Four boys in pairs, getting off to illegal touches and thoughts. One boy had his dick out on show, while the other had their hand around it. The other two weren’t much better. Ringo hand his hand down George’s pants and was swirling his thumb around the beading wetness atop George’s member. It may have been hidden, but it was filthy. And it was filthy the noises that escaped George’s throat. He refused to moan out loud, he didn’t even do much of that when he was with girls, but what he couldn’t stifle were the strangled gasps and loud swallows he made as Ringo played with him. He really couldn’t hold them in as he also tried to keep up kissing his drummer. It was hard work.

As was touching George at this angle. Ringo could feel every pull as his wrist was in an awkward position. When he couldn’t stand it much longer, he shoved George back onto his butt and clambered to the side so that he knelt up close to George’s hips. He pinned the smaller boy down with one hand, while the other he brought up to his mouth. He licked up from the base of his palm to the tip of his middle finger. Once slick enough, he brought it back down and weaved it under George’s underwear.

This time, George couldn’t help but crease up and let his breath hitch, loudly.

Ringo, thinking that he may have restrained George too much by pinning his chest down, snatched his free hand away, almost apologetically. George, however, would have none of his fearful behaviour. He stole the limb away from Ringo’s lap, holding it tightly as pleasure ran down his spine in an intense wave of heat.

Paul was feeling the same. John had redoubled his efforts, leaving the bassist’s legs to give way. He sat back on his ankles and held onto the mattress behind his back. Now with the added strength of his arms being planted, he was able to thrust harder into John’s mouth.

Yet John wanted to be in control, and he saw too much of that slipping into Paul’s grasp with this position. With confidence he seemed to grasp out of thin air, he shamelessly leant down and swallowed the head of Paul’s member. Paul yelped loudly, even louder than before, his hips bucking upwards so far that John felt his length slip down his throat. His body seized up, his gag reflex far too effective, he snapped his head away.

“Sorry!” Paul cried, hoping it hadn’t put John off.

It had done quite the opposite.

Though his eyes welled, and cheeks burned red, John smiled back at his partner, devilishly. He resumed position, leant over with his chin pointing upwards, and he sucked Paul back in.

‘See’, he thought, ‘it’s not so hard. All those girls who want to complain are just scared of dick. How could they be, really, if they were able to look up through their long lashes and see Paulie’s face twist with pleasure.’

It was really a beautiful sight. Paul’s hair was now all ruffled, his clothed pulled at, pulled away. His pyjama bottoms were pulled down to his knees. His lips were plump, wet and well kissed.

On the other side, George was arching up off the bed, his hands slammed down into the mattress so hard it was making a dent in the springs. His fluffy brown hair was splayed over the rustled duvet. His eyes were shut so tight that his eyelashes looked like pins resting on his cheeks. And Ringo was able to watch it all from a lovely view. Up above like this, he could see how George’s body curved, every jolt of pleasure that ran through him, every moan he tried to swallow.

It was very handsome to see, but to taste, it was even better. Ringo went down to press his lips on George’s once more. This time, the kiss was a lot more heated. George darted his tongue into Ringo’s mouth, tasting him, running it along the edge of his teeth. Ringo tried to keep up, trying to add some skill of his own. How was it that he managed to multitask two hands while drumming, but he struggled to manage doing one thing with one hand and another with his lips. And yet George seemed to have no trouble. Then again, he was doing nothing but clenching his hands, balling them up with fists of duvet.

“John…” A warning tone from Paul’s mouth pricked everyone’s ears to attention, “John, please… I think I’m going to… You might want to…”

John almost looked alarmed, as though he was clueless to what Paul was talking about. He removed his mouth and replaced it with his hand.

“What, luv? What do you need me to do?” He queried lovingly. Paul brought one of his own hands up to cup around John’s neck, dragging the older boy in for a kiss.

“Just… don’t stop.” He muttered. A second later, he’d dirtied the sheets, doubling over and straining as he whispered ‘John’ over and over.

Ringo and George couldn’t help but watch. It was enough to tip George over the edge too. He held Ringo’s hand tighter and turned his head to the side, sunken onto his breast, half blushed red with shame. Ringo timidly pumped him harder while stroking his thumb against George’s knuckles sweetly.

“Looking gorgeous, Georgie.” He giggled softly. George giggled breathlessly back before a surge of pleasure stole the sound. He groaned, throwing himself backwards, coming over his stomach and pyjama top, not to mention Ringo’s hand.

Now with two boys bathing in an afterglow, the other two sat, unsatisfied beside them. They would not say what they wanted. Their agreement seemed to include that each boy would only get what they want if someone took the initiative without speaking. Such a boyish way, but it was the only way any would agree to commit these acts. After all, they’d already done the speaking part of the night. They’d talked about what they thought it was like to be with a guy. Now was the experimentation part of the night.

And, luckily, the two spent boys hand not lost interest in that part. George was the first to act. With pulses of pleasure still present below his stomach and Ringo’s hand still in his, he sat up and pulled the drummer towards him.

“C’mere.” He crooned, only loud enough for Ringo to hear, “Sit up here.” Ringo complied, sitting were George commanded him to, closer to the guitarist’s head. George then flipped over onto his stomach and spread his legs.

“Sorry,” Ringo muttered when the younger Beatle was faced with a clothed hard-on, “You want these off?”

George laughed softly as he pulled Ringo’s trouser bottoms down to expose his member. Ringo was always so polite, and people often didn’t think of him as particularly shy, but he was. He was a people pleaser, someone who wanted his friends to be happy. All George could think about in that moment was making the people pleaser pleased. He softly kissed Ringo’s clothed thighs, working his way up to the thick appendage sitting to attention between them. He did one thigh, then the other, then tucked his head down and licked beneath. Ringo shuddered. Never could he have imagined how good it would feel to have his friend’s head between his legs.

John, on the other hand, had imagined it enough to expect great things. Those lips of Paul’s were objects that sparked many an image. He could see them part, see the tongue inside flick over the head of his length… fuck he knew this was going to be good, because even if the bassist wasn’t all that skilful- after all, John hadn’t been, as he hadn’t any experience in giving oral to a guy- just the sight of Paul around him would get him excited enough to come.

And it was happening, right at that moment. Paul had switched to be the one leaning over with John as the one leaning back, his hands behind him. The younger boy spat filthily into his hand and coated John’s length in it. John grunted as the hot saliva slid over him. Paul then positioned his hand at the base, while his mouth opened and his tongue slid to cover his bottom lip as though he wanted to really taste John. He let the tip of his tongue grace over John’s leaking slit before taking in as much of him as he could. Immediately, out of habit, John knotted his fingers into Paul’s hair.

“Fuck!” He groaned, gritting his teeth.

George found himself giggled around Ringo’s member. He didn’t really know why, but John’s exclamation was… funny. Perhaps it was because it put everything into perspective, everything that was happening. Before, he’d merely been thinking in the moment. He didn’t really consider anything other than what lay before his eyes. When he thought about it, he realised how dangerous this really was, how illegal and rebellious this was. As pleased Eppy might’ve been in discovering that his band was experimenting and trying to understand about being gay, he would’ve murdered them for doing it somewhere where someone could hear, or walk in, or so close to a window that wasn’t properly covered. If this got out, it would be the biggest scandal ever.

Did that put him off? It certainly did not. Especially not when his small bout of laughter made Ringo shuffle. He knew that it felt good, that he was getting off to it. How pleasant that thought was.

Comfortable now in his actions, he decided to try something else. He got faster, he tried going deeper, he used his tongue more, he tried twisting his hand a little. All the while, he watched Ringo, watched his reactions. The drummer’s face had pleasure written over it, tight, hot pleasure. His bright blue eyes shone when they were open. When they were closed, they were scrunched up tightly. He bit his thick bottom lip and, with a little guilty expression, thrust into George’s mouth. George didn’t mind at all. He happily moved with Ringo’s rhythm, quickened with him as he began to build up to climax.

Paul also looked up at his partner. John watched him the whole time, as though he could not tear his eyes off him. His fair fringe was stuck in small clumps to his forehead, darkening as sweat soaked into it. He moved it out of his eyes, swiping it all to one side. His neck and jawline glistened with sweat too, and saliva probably left over from when he was blowing Paul. His lips hung open a bit to draw in shallow breathes. Paul knew he was getting John close. He’d just felt how wonderful it was to be on that edge. He wanted to make it last. He popped his mouth off John’s length to suck his balls, while his hand remained.

Ringo wasn’t going to last much longer. He buried his hand in George’s hair as a warning, as he did not trust his own voice in the moment. He tried to pull the younger boy off him, or at least give him a clue that he might get a load of come in his mouth if he remained there much longer, but George would not budge.

Shakily, Ringo opened his lips, his chest heaving as he sucked in breath after breath, “George…” He gasped, “you’re…”

George cut in with a very definite shake of his head. Ringo was left to do nothing but enjoy the feeling of someone sucking him to climax, to take all of what came with it. He couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t help, he just sat back and let euphoria tear through him.

“Georgie… Christ Georgie.” He exclaimed, unable to prevent himself from bucking hard into George’s mouth. He couldn’t even see how George was taking it; he’d closed his eyes. He really hoped he wasn’t hurting his friend.

When he opened his eyes, George was sitting up opposite him with a smile on his face and his hand wiping up a stream of come from his chin. Ringo, apologetically, giggled.

Meanwhile, Paul had reattached his mouth to John’s length. He pushed as deep as he possibly could, feeling John hit the back of his throat. John was trembling. Paul felt him shake through one hand gripping his thigh. He softly rubbed his fingers over John’s skin to settle him, but he knew he wouldn’t. He knew he was going to come soon, which was a really hot thought. He wanted to see all of it.

He removed his mouth once more, but tugged John harder with his hand. He kissed John passionately on his lips, then pressed his body up against John’s, feeling his own hands jerking faster and faster between them. He buried his forehead in John’s chest and watched, watched as the older boy came over their torsos, coating his hand.

A minute or so later, the four boys came to the realisation what had just happened. They looked over one another, all dirtied by their own, or someone else’s come, all messy looking and boiling hot. They could hardly believe what had just happened, and they certainly could not talk about it. All they could do was sit and wonder what the hell to do next.

Then John stood up, breaking the silence with the rustling sound of his movements. He made his footfalls as soft as he could as he crept across the carpeted floor. His three bandmates stared at him in confusion. Surely, they couldn’t make that much noise! Moaning was one thing, but walking? Was he crazy? It was as though anyone could sleep through the noises produced in sex, but one footstep and the whole hotel would wake up.

John looked over the three confused faces and smiled at their ignorance.

“I call dibs on the shower first!” He declared. The others realised what they were missing out on, all too late. By the time they had started to bundle towards the bathroom door, John had already locked himself in and started undressing.

Ringo and George sulked back to their beds, embarrassedly hiding their wet hands and damp patches on their pyjamas. Somehow, they’d have to hide that in the morning. They’d have to wake up earlier than Eppy. Fat chance of that, given that it was already past midnight.

A knock brought both their attentions to the door, but it wasn’t someone knocking outside. It was Paul, gently knocking on the bathroom door. He pressed himself up against it, his lips close to the slither between the door and its frame, and said, “John… could I come in? Might as well clean off together, no?” His voice was playful and cheeky. John couldn’t say no. He let Paul in, leaving Ringo and George to sit, quietly waiting for their turn.

“You know…” Ringo said softly. George looked up, trying to ignore the prying worries in his head about the next morning, “You could always… shower with me too… since they’re doing it.”

George nodded, “I think I’d enjoy that.”

The positive reply gave Ringo a little more confidence. His tone was more hushed, but he doubted he would’ve spoken at all had George not been so enthusiastic, “I could repay you… since I didn’t… you know.” He gestured to his mouth.

George’s eyes widened.

Perhaps he wasn’t going to sleep so easy as he thought he might tonight.

In fact, none of the boys had any intention of sleeping any time soon, despite how late it had gotten.


End file.
